The Fundraising Illusion
By Bridge to the Heart

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Why We Give, What We’ve Forgotten, and How to Get Back There

There’s a little-known Gemara that says: “In the times before Moshiach, every shul dinner will have valet parking, slow-cooked ribeye flown in from Argentina, and a surprise appearance by a 1980s Jewish singer who now does weddings in Passaic.” Okay, fine. It’s not in the Gemara. But you believed me for a second, didn’t you? Because that’s exactly what fundraising has become. Not giving, mind you—giving is still holy, still sacred, still beautiful. But fundraising? That’s turned into a Netflix trailer for a charity-themed game show where the jackpot is a three-bedroom apartment in Yerushalayim, a catered seudah, and backstage passes to the next Jewish concert featuring 11 stars, each performing for 9 minutes. We’re not upset. We’re not cynical. We’re just… noticing. Bridge to the Heart is here to help people give. Not to us. We don’t accept donations. We don’t give out prizes. We don’t shout. We don’t raffle. We don’t promise you that 100% of your donation goes straight to the tzaddik in Bnei Brak who fixes kids’ teeth with his eyes closed. We do something else: we help you find causes you believe in. That’s it. We connect people to mission. We help you feel it again. Because somewhere along the way, we forgot what it means to just give.

 

The Great Gala Confusion
There’s something uniquely Jewish about going to a gala and hoping the valet loses your car so you can leave early. You walk in, and it’s an event. The emcee yells like he’s announcing a title match at Madison Square Garden: “Ladies and gentlemen—tonight! One night only! A cause so powerful… it will change lives forever… plus hot hors d’oeuvres at Table 9!” There’s a video. There’s music. There’s drone footage of a school building. There’s a string quartet playing "Im Eshkachech" with so much passion you feel like you’re doing something illegal just by sitting there.

It’s a production. And somewhere in the fog of strobe lights and steak knives, someone walks up to a podium, clears his throat, and says, “This organization… is changing lives.” You clap. Of course you clap. Because you’re a good person. But do you actually know what the organization does? Maybe. Maybe not. Doesn’t matter. You were moved. You gave. You got a parking ticket. And now your WhatsApp groups are filled with a trailer for another dinner next month—with a campaign called “It Starts With You,” a slogan so vague it could be selling anything from kiruv to kombucha.

 

The Rise of the Raffle Revolution
Let’s talk about raffles. You know, those fundraisers that look suspiciously like gambling, except instead of chips and cards, you get a chance to win a 12-day tour of Eretz Yisrael led by a rebbi, a drone, and a man named Yossi with a loudspeaker. Here’s the thing: raffles work. You know it. I know it. The guy yelling outside Gourmet Glatt knows it. (“Only four hours left to win a trip for two! Support Torah! Support Shidduchim! Support brisket!”) We’re not anti-raffle. We’re just pro-mission. Because here’s what the research says—and yes, actual research: Since 1992, total U.S. charitable giving has nearly quadrupled. That’s amazing. But at the same time, the percentage of Americans who donate has plummeted—from about 66% of households in 2000 to less than 50% by 2018. Why? Because more and more people are waiting to feel entertained before they give. We’re not giving less money; we’re just giving it more conditionally. We’ve been trained to expect something in return: a gala, a concert, a raffle, a roller coaster that ends in a Chinese auction with a Sephardic singer and sushi. It’s not evil. It’s just… off. It misses the point.

 

Giving Without the Glitter
Here’s something wild: the average donor retention rate in the U.S. is just 42%. That means more than half of donors don’t give to the same cause two years in a row. In other words, you can give $500 to a cause this year, be serenaded by a clarinetist at a buffet table, and next year… you’re gone. Not because you didn’t care. But because you didn’t connect. That’s what Bridge to the Heart is about. We don’t sell anything. We don’t campaign. We don’t show up at your door with a laminated folder and 12 brochures printed in Helvetica. We’re a map. A guide. A platform to help you find organizations whose work actually matters to you. You want to support mental health programs in Jewish high schools? We’ll help you find them. You care about infertility support, or special needs, or food insecurity, or children at risk? We’ve got you covered.

We don’t ask for money. We ask for clarity. We ask you to be honest. Not “what’s the best prize,” but “what speaks to my soul?”

 

Imagine If the Bais Hamikdash Ran a Gala
Let’s be real. If fundraising today ran the Beis Hamikdash campaign, the kohen gadol would be introduced with a fog machine. The raffle would include a trip to Gan Eden and a year’s supply of lamb chops. And someone in a tux would shout: “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re just 18 korbanos away from unlocking the next donor match!” Would people give? Sure. But what happened to giving lishmah—because you believe in it? We live in an age where nonprofits feel forced to entertain us just to survive. You want people to care about abused children? You better make a promo video with piano music, testimonials, and a quote from the Baal Shem Tov in cursive. If there’s no popcorn machine or slow-motion drone footage, forget it. But here’s a radical idea: maybe we can return to basics. To giving because we care. Because something stirs in us. Because someone told us about an organization doing holy work and we just… gave. Quietly. Meaningfully. Without a steak.

 

Bridge to the Heart: It's Not About Us
Bridge to the Heart doesn’t take donations. We’re not a charity. We’re a compass. Our job is simple: help you give from a place of truth. A place of connection. A place where you don’t need a prize to make a difference. We don’t pretend that every dollar goes directly to the recipient. It doesn’t. Some of it will go to overhead. That’s normal. That’s healthy. Great organizations need staff, office space, and sometimes even air conditioning. We’re not here to manipulate your emotions or shame your giving habits. We’re just saying this: If you’ve ever thought to yourself, “I wish I could give to causes that really matter to me—not because I might win an iPad or get invited to a banquet, but because I believe in the mission”—you’ve found your place.

This is it.

No gimmicks. No glitter. No steak.

 

Just heart.

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